I became the slime toy of the evil dragon girl?

Ian thought to himself. How else could it have gotten here? It must have been when Rongrong barged in, right when the Sweet Forest activated its teleportation array, and she was teleported to Dragon Territory along with the Sweet Forest as it relocated.

Rongrong couldn't continue speaking, so she hugged her knees and lowered her head.

Silence fell over the tent.

Nicole had seen a bit of the world, having previously studied at an academy in a major city, and knew a little about this nobleman: "Barov is quite famous near Honeydew Town. He's a nobleman from the eastern border of the Ash Kingdom. Several villages under his name have been attacked by monsters or demi-humans particularly frequently in recent years."

Ian curled his lip. What attack? It's just a self-directed excuse for annexing land. They really try to pin all sorts of nonsense on monsters.

Barbara raised her little hand and said, "In the church's basement... there are some demi-humans locked up, supposedly needing to be purified by the bishop. I heard from the old pastor that those demi-humans were eventually sent to Pavlo."

Well, the church isn't exactly clean either...

Ian thought for a moment and asked, "Does your rabbit-people tribe know how to farm? Would you be comfortable living in the Monster Forest?"

Rongrong looked up, paused for a moment, and nodded: "Yes... We've been cultivating herbs for generations, for healing, for restoring magic, for special purposes... we know them all."

Ian: "How many people, as the price of rescue, must unconditionally become members of Dragon's Territory?"

Her fluffy eyes lit up instantly.

She tried to sit up, but she was too weak and could only nod frantically: "At least three hundred! You... the dragon is willing to save them?"

Lilith was now enraged, shouting, "We don't need Lady Vivian! I will intervene if necessary!"

She didn't know if her choice was right. Perhaps the rabbit people would become food for the monsters if they came to the monster territory?

But she had no choice; she just wanted to desperately grasp at anything around her that could be her lifeline.

As for what kind of monster it is, we can only take a gamble...

It certainly won't be worse than it is now...

After all, she had personally witnessed her former friends being dismantled and used as alchemical materials.

Ian didn't answer, lying on the ground, his tentacles tapping the ground unconsciously.

Knock knock knock...

After thinking for a moment, Ian said, "Let's have a meeting tomorrow."

Then he turned around and jumped out of the tent.

It's almost dawn.

At the edge of the experimental field, the moonlight had faded, and the eastern sky was beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn.

The dragon blood wheat has grown a little taller. The earliest sprout is now two fingers tall, and its leaves sway gently in the morning breeze.

Ian lay down at the edge of the field, looking at the land.

Various thoughts raced through my mind.

Population is the cornerstone of territory building, and this is a good opportunity to expand the population, but...

How can hundreds of people be saved?

How strong is Barov?

Even if they are rescued, hundreds of people need food and water, and will this wheat even grow...?

"Forget it, let's just grab her first. If all else fails, we can use Vivian's gold coins for a while. Vivian can't handle that much money; I'll have to manage it..."

……

The next morning, the large tent outside the dragon's nest was packed with people.

Charles hung up a hand-drawn map.

That was drawn by Nicole overnight, using charcoal to outline the terrain of the Emerald Hills.

Based on Rongrong's last memories, the location where the rabbit people were imprisoned—the Whispering Cave—was roughly identified.

Ian was relieved that the rabbit people hadn't been imprisoned in human city jails or similar places.

However, Ian thought it made sense, since the slave trade was a dirty business done in secret.

Openly arresting hundreds of demi-humans and sending them to the city would provoke a strong reaction from them.

After all, there are powerful and warlike races among the demi-humans, such as orcs and tiger-men. Although these powerful races are just rotten fish in the entire human kingdom, they are indeed a very powerful force for one of the viscounts.

The cave was indeed a good place to be a prison, with only one entrance and exit, and it was also very well hidden.

Ian was lying on the low table directly in front of the map.

Next to it was Angry Horn, where a three-meter-tall minotaur squatted, like a mountain of flesh.

Lilith leaned against the shadows in the corner of the tent, her silver eyes fixed on the map. The three members of the Gilded Rose Squad huddled to one side: Phoebe clutched her giant warhammer staff, Nicole held a charcoal pencil, and Barbara sat quietly with the Holy Scripture in her arms.

Rongrong sat at the tent entrance, her face still pale, but she insisted on coming.

Ms. Mo floated at the highest point of the tent, her transparent figure suspended in mid-air, with an expression of watching a good show.

"Let's begin," Ian said.

Nicole was the first to speak. This short swordsman and shieldman was a very cautious and meticulous person, and the only reliable one in the Gilded Rose.

"Viscount Barov, a noble lord in the eastern part of the Ash Kingdom. His fiefdom includes Emerald Hills, Blackwater Town, and Mill Village, very close to Honeydew Town. He commands approximately two hundred private soldiers."

"They are well-equipped, some even wearing plate armor. They are usually stationed near the Viscount's manor, but they will be deployed during raids."

"Those guys aren't particularly strong in combat, but they're very well-equipped."

Barbara added in a low voice, "I...I've heard about it. An adventurer once took a quest from Barov and said he had a captain named Gray, a fifth-tier warrior, who was supposedly an adventurer who had killed Yetis in the north."

Charles frowned: "Two hundred men, one fifth-tier captain, a full-scale assault?"

The tent fell silent.

Ian shook his head, rejecting the plan to launch a direct attack.

A strong attack would be easy; a single charge from a hundred three-meter-tall minotaurs would probably open the MVP page immediately.

However, their main purpose was not to fight on the battlefield. If these private soldiers encountered unforeseen circumstances, the most likely outcome would be that they would destroy the evidence of their slave capture and flee...

As for how to destroy them, the answer is, of course, to kill all the rabbit people.

Then all that work will have been for nothing, and Ian will lose the farming team he wanted.

We still have to sneak into the village, no shooting!

……

Just then, the tent flap was lifted.

A dwarf poked his head in, his goggles pushed up on his forehead, his face covered in engine oil.

"Lord Charles! That...that goblin has woken up!"

Charles was taken aback: "What goblins?"

"The one who fainted from fright while doing the puzzle!" the dwarf gestured, indicating the name. "He fell out of the forest and passed out on the spot. We left him in the shed, and he just woke up. After waking up, he ran around everywhere, so we caught him and brought him back."

Ian's eyes lit up. He pointed to the sky and said, "I have a great idea."

"Bring it over."

The dwarf shrank back and quickly pushed in a small, green-skinned creature.

Goblin.

It was less than 1.2 meters tall, with pointed ears and a mouthful of sharp teeth. It was wrapped in a dirty rag, barefoot, with mud all over its toes, and its eyes darted around.

He was shoved in by a dwarf who was about his height. The dwarf was like a miniature human, while the goblin was more like a miniature green-skinned orc.

When the goblin saw the people in the tent—minoes, fairies, humans, vampires, and a slime lying on the table—he was visibly taken aback.

Then he knelt down with a thud and blurted out a goblin phrase.

"M-Master! My name is Gugu! I'll do anything!" His voice was high-pitched and thin, and he spoke rapidly like a machine gun. "Don't eat me! My flesh is sour! It doesn't taste good! It really doesn't taste good! Please, please don't eat me!"

There was a two-second silence in the tent.

No one could understand what he was babbling about.

Except for Ian.